The door opened and three men stepped inside. All three were skinny and moved with a swagger that implied ownership. The leader’s face was a grim mask held in place by a clenched jaw. To my dismay, the last two fingers of his left hand were painted white; a Two-Bones.

I didn’t know what they were looking for and I didn’t want to know. Danger was a constant companion to men like that, men who didn’t care whether they lived or died. I rapped the bar twice to try and get the bartender’s attention. It didn’t work. All eyes were on the Two-Bones thugs.

Slowly, a large man, more round than square, slid his chair back. The skrrrrrrrk as it moved across the floor was loud in the thick silence. With one hand he used the table to help him rise to his feet. He crossed his arms across his chest. His thumbs had been painted red.

I wanted to leave, to flee before war broke out between the Two Bones and the Bloody Thumbs but any further movement of mine would draw attention from both sides. All I could do was wait.